


tidings of comfort and joy

by memorysdaughter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Lights, Cuddling & Snuggling, Families of Choice, Gift Giving, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Multi, Polyamory, Sledding, Snowball Fight, Snowed In, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorysdaughter/pseuds/memorysdaughter
Summary: When their relatives can't make it in for Winter's Crest, Vox Machina devises a system to keep them from becoming holiday Scrooges.Modern AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunarwolfik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarwolfik/gifts).



> Happy Winter's Crest!

Snow’s falling as Vex stomps her way into the front foyer, slamming the door behind her as she yanks off her hat and scarf. “Fuck him!”

“Fuck who?” comes Grog’s voice from the kitchen.

Trinket barrels down the hall towards Vex and nuzzles up against her, but she’s too mad to care.  She makes her way into the kitchen, where Pike and Grog are elbows-deep into pie-making. “My father,” she answers.

“I don’t wanna fuck yer father,” Grog says.

Pike elbows him in the side, something she’s able to do with the assistance of the tall step-stool she stands on to work in the kitchen. “What’s going on, Vex?”

Vex leans in and snags a few fresh apple slices from Grog’s pie pan. “Vax and I are supposed to host Velora for a few days over Winter’s Crest, and Ambassador Asshat just called to let me know that he’s in the hospital and our stepmother dearest is too busy taking care of him to bring her here.”

She crunches into the apples and tries to let their tart sweetness erase all of the ugly displeasure that’s been curling her lip since she received the phone call.  It doesn’t work.

“I’m so sorry.  I know how much you were looking forward to seeing your sister,” Pike says. “If it makes you feel any better, Papa Wilhand isn’t coming either.”

“And yer father’s in the hospital,” Grog adds. “That should make ya feel at least a _little_ better.”

Pike elbows him again.

Vex cracks a smile at that. “What’s up with Wilhand?  Did he and Daven decide to have a drinking contest again?”

“No,” Pike answers. “With the snowstorm coming in, he’s decided to stay at the temple and help them hand out coats and blankets and warm meals.”

“Your grandfather is so much nicer than Ambassador Asshat,” Vex mutters.

Grog reaches into the pocket of his apron - a previous Winter’s Crest gift from Pike - and pulls out a slice of chocolate orange, wrapped in brightly-colored foil. “Eat this ‘n then go pummel yer brother.  He’s out back havin’ a snowball fight with Keyleth and Percy.”

“You always know what to say, Grog.”

“That’s why I’m the Grand Poobah,” Grog says.

As Vex unwraps the chocolate, she hears an out-of-key rendition of “Jingle Bells” start up from the far-off music room where Scanlan gives lessons. “Ugghh, I forgot - it’s Kynan’s lesson day.”

“You can always tell,” Grog says. “We’ve been listenin’ to it fer almost an hour.”

“You’d think after awhile he’d manage to hit at least a few notes correctly,” Pike says thoughtfully.

“And I’m out,” Vex says.

“Go dunk yer brother in a snowbank!” Grog hollers as she heads down the hallway.

“We’ll have hot chocolate ready for when you come back!” Pike adds.

Trinket lets out a _rowwrr_ as Vex yanks her hat and scarf back on. “I’m sorry, buddy,” she says, scritching him behind the ears. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.  I just… I wanted Winter’s Crest to be perfect.”

She opens the back door and Trinket bounds out into the snow ahead of her, clearly indicating his opinion that Winter’s Crest is already pretty perfect.

 

 

Grog puts his pie in the oven and turns to look at Pike.  She’s hard at work, now kneading bread dough, but there’s something about the way she’s standing atop her step-stool that makes him think she’s not fully committed to the task. “Pikey…”

“Hmm?”

“You okay with this?”

“The baking?”

“No.” Grog steps up next to her and puts his hand on her shoulder. “‘Bout Wilhand not comin’.”

“It’s fine, Grog.  It’s snowing like crazy out there.  He probably wouldn’t even be able to get in from Westruun anyway.” Pike brings one hand up and uses the wrist to brush hair out of her face.  It doesn’t quite work, and more of her fine hair spills over her cheeks.

“Lemme help you with that,” Grog says.  He washes his hands and returns to stand behind her.  With somewhat clumsy fingers he removes the elastics and pins holding Pike’s hair in a heavy coronet, then begins winding her locks back into a serviceable, if somewhat messy, bun. “Better?”

“I guess.” Pike’s voice is dejected.  Then she catches herself and straightens up. “It’s very nice of you, Grog.  Thank you,” she adds, her tone softer and kinder.

“I can’t do fun buns like Vax can, but maybe he’ll do those fer ya later,” Grog says.  He bends down to look her in the face. “Y’know, you can be mad about not bein’ able to see Wilhand.  I know I am.”

“There’s no sense in being mad,” Pike says. “Why would I be mad?  We’re all together, we’re all happy -”

The off-key _plunks_ of “Jingle Bells” intrude again.  Somehow the notes sound… angry.

“ - except for maybe Kynan,” Pike allows. “But we’ll have our secret gift exchange tonight, we’ve got enough food for an army, and things are really good.”

Grog nods. “You’re right.  Things are really good.  And you’re part’a the reason why.”

He holds his hand up for a high-five.  Pike obliges, bringing up her flour-dusted hand to smack his.

Grog takes the high-five and pretends to reel backwards with the impact. “Easy there, monstah.  We’ve still got cookies to make and I’m gonna to need these hands.”

Pike grins. “Oh, Grog.”

 

 

 _Plunk-plunk-PLONK.  Plunk-plunk-PLONK._  Six notes in a row that actually sound like the melody line of “Jingle Bells.”  Scanlan’s head jerks up. “Very nice, Kynan!”

The music stops.  Kynan turns towards him. “Really?”

“Yes, yes!  Perfect!”

“Oh, wow, Mr. Shorthalt.  Thank you.” Kynan beams.

“I think we’re all done for today, buddy,” Scanlan says. “It looks like it’s snowing harder.  You might want to run home to your mom.”

“Okay.” Kynan leans in and picks up his sheet music.

“Nice job today,” Scanlan says.  He mops his forehead with his purple handkerchief.

Kynan puts his music into his satchel. “Are you doing anything special for Winter’s Crest?”

“I think we’ll just be here,” Scanlan answers.

“You’re not going to see your daughter?”

Scanlan sighs, thinking of Kaylie, still on tour with his former mentor, Dr. Dranzel.  Their journeys took them far away from Emon; there would be no father-daughter time over the holiday. “Not for the holiday, Kynan.  Maybe some time in the spring.”

“I hope you have a good time anyway,” Kynan says.

“I know I will,” Scanlan answers, putting a smile on his face. “Have a joyful Winter’s Crest, Kynan.  Say hi to your mom.”

“I will!” Kynan yanks on his parka and darts out of the music room, yelling a goodbye to Pike and Grog as he goes.

Scanlan takes his time straightening up his studio, closing the cover of the piano and gently wiping it with a soft cloth.  The room around him is tidy and cool and utterly devoid of holiday cheer.  It’s almost too depressing.

In the hallway it smells of apples and cloves and cinnamon.  He hears the soft sounds of Pike and Grog chatting away in the kitchen.  Outside fat flakes of snow fall; the landscape is slowly disappearing, turning into rounded white lumps of things that once were bushes and trees, streetlamps and faraway buildings.  Down the corridor in the large living room the tall Winter’s Crest tree glows, twined with strings of popcorn and cranberries, hung with ornaments of glass and metal, and carefully enchanted by Keyleth with little fireflies of light.  Underneath it brightly-wrapped packages sit, awaiting the night’s secret gift exchange.

Scanlan flops himself down into a comfortably worn armchair and looks up at it.  Though he’s surrounded by the six people in the world who love him, arguably, more than anyone should love somebody like him, he feels unspeakably alone. “Joyful Winter’s Crest,” he mutters, and twirls one finger lackadaisically in the air.

 

 

Percy scoops up a handful of snow and packs it into a ball.  As he takes careful aim at Vax, the back door bursts open and Trinket barrels out into the backyard.  Before Percy can let the snowball go, Trinket bounds over to Vax and knocks him backwards into the snow.

The bear’s attack is much better than anything Percy had planned, so he sets his sights on Keyleth, hiding behind what was once a fairly respectable berry bush but is now nothing more than a smoothly curved, waist-high protrusion.  He lobs the snowball.

Keyleth turns towards him, starting to say something, and sees the snowball coming for her.  She brings her hand up and pushes it away from her, gusts of wind blossoming from her fingers.  The snowball comes back towards Percy and _thwacks_  him in the shoulder. “Hey!” he lets out.

Keyleth grins. “Percy, I just had the _best_ idea!”

“I thought we agreed - no magic!”

Keyleth rolls her eyes. “Oh, please.”

“Can I… little help?” Vax calls weakly from the other side of the yard.

Vex hauls her brother out of the snow. “Trinket, that wasn’t very nice.”

“ _Rowrrr_ ,” the bear says, somewhat contritely.

“It was hilarious, but not very nice,” Vex adds.

Keyleth twirls through the snow towards the twins.  Despite the foot of snow already on the ground, she never looks awkward.  Percy both admires this and hates it.  He likes how comfortable Keyleth seems in her element; he would just prefer to observe it from indoors, when he’s not slogging around after her. “What’s your idea?”

“We should go _caroling!”_

Percy steps up next to Vex, trying to determine whether or not Keyleth’s actually serious.  The suggestion seems to be ridiculous, but the look of excitement on Keyleth’s face - and the fact that he _knows_ Keyleth - makes him think otherwise. “But… we can’t sing.”

“Scanlan can sing!” Keyleth points out. “And you and Pike sing together when you think no one’s listening.”

“Do you know what everyone does when they think no one’s listening?” Vex wants to know. “Asking for a friend.”

Keyleth breaks out of her reverie about caroling and gives Vex a wicked grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I think we _all_ know,” Vax mutters. “The house isn’t _that_ big.”

“I think caroling’s a great idea,” Percy interrupts before the discussion of the mechanics of their very confusing (but _very_ satisfying) group relationship gets out of hand. “I’m sure Cassandra will love to join us when she gets here.”

“Velora would probably get a kick out of it too,” Vax says.

Vex’s face falls. “Velora’s not coming.”

“What?”

“Ambassador Asshat broke his hip or something,” Vex tells her brother. “Our darling stepmother’s going to be too busy terrorizing the healers and catering to his whims to bring our sister here.”

“Let’s go get her, then!” Vax says.

“Brother,” Vex says. “Look around.  We’re not getting out of here.”

Vax sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Yeah, Percy, are you sure Cassandra’s going to be able to get here?” Keyleth asks, sounding concerned. “Last I heard the roads out of Whitestone were all slick ice.”

Percy shrugs. “If she gets here, she gets here.  We’ve spent a good number of holidays apart since our parents died.  It’s not ideal, and it’s not what I’d like, but I’d understand.”

“Why are you so chipper?” Vex nudges Keyleth. “I’m guessing your father’s going to get stuck coming out of Zephra, even if he is some sort of crazy prepper-survivalist.”

“You guys always say that like it’s a bad thing,” Keyleth says.

“The man has a year’s worth of food stored in airtight plastic buckets in a crawlspace under his garage,” Vax points out.

“That’s just good planning,” Keyleth replies.

Percy tilts his head. “What about the shed behind your house that’s full of toilet paper and gold coins hidden in packages that look like toilet paper?”

“Don’t forget about the six steamer trunks containing nothing but glowsticks,” Vex adds. “And the six additional steamer trunks full of batteries.”

“Oh, guys, you’re making me so nostalgic,” Keyleth says, grinning. “It’ll be so nice to see my father.”

Vex watches Trinket plow across the yard, leaping into the air at random intervals to swat at various clots of snow he dislodges from the ground.  Vax puts his arm around his sister. “We’ll find time to see Velora.  If not now, soon.”

“And maybe Ambassador Asshat will die,” Vex mutters. “We’ve got about an equal chance of that happening.”

“It’s Winter’s Crest,” Vax tells her. “Anything’s possible.”

 

 

By the time the four snowball fighters and one very snowy bear make their way back indoors, there are two phone messages for them - one from Cassandra, letting Percy know she won’t be able to make it to the Winter’s Crest party, and another from Kohren, informing Keyleth that his car broke down on the outskirts of Zephra.

“So we’re well and truly alone,” Percy says with a sigh, hanging up from his conversation with Cassandra.

Keyleth looks around the kitchen and sees nothing but gloomy faces hovering over cocoa mugs. “This is ridiculous!” she says.

“It’s a snowstorm, Keyleth,” Scanlan says. “Some people just won’t be able to…”

“Not _that_ ,” Keyleth interrupts him. “The fact that we’re all together and we’re all healthy and we have everything here to have an _awesome_ Winter’s Crest party and yet we’re all looking like someone died!”

She leaps up from her chair and goes over to a drawer, rummaging around for a moment.  She comes out with a pad of paper and some pens. “Now, look - we’re all going to write down something we want to do for Winter’s Crest, then we’ll put them in Scanlan’s beret and draw one out at a time.  We’ll do them all and then have our big dinner and our gift exchange.  And _everyone_ will be happy!”

Her statement is unusually forceful, and for a moment those gathered around the table can’t quite figure out how to react.  Vax is the first one to reach out. “Sure.  Sounds good to me.”

“Could be fun,” Grog agrees.

Keyleth passes out sticky notes and pens to everyone, for a few moments the kitchen is warm and quiet, filled only by the soft noises of consideration and pens scratching against paper.  Scanlan hops down from his chair and goes into the hall closet, returning with his beret.  He drops his folded sticky note into the hat, then passes it to Percy.

Once everyone’s suggestions are inside, Vax turns to Keyleth. “Who gets to pick?”

“Let Pike do it,” Grog opines. “I dropped an entire pan ‘a cookies on her feet earlier.”

“I told you it wasn’t a big deal, Grog,” Pike says, flushing.

“Sounds good,” Vax says, and holds the beret out to pick. “Do your worst, Pickle.”

“We better not be _served_ any of those cookies later,” Vex tells Grog, frowning.

“I made him eat them,” Pike says as she pulls out one of the sticky notes. “This one says… ‘make Trinket pull a sled with Scanlan and Pike on it.’”

Heads swivel around to Vex. “I didn’t write it!” she protests.

“Yeah, it doesn’t sound very Vex-like,” Vax says. “She doesn’t usually want Trinket to do work… or anything fun.”

Under the table Trinket agrees with a _mrowww_.

“I wrote it,” Scanlan says, putting his cocoa mug back on the table. “It sounds romantic.”

“Or like we’re going to end up dumped in a snowbank,” Pike says.  She shrugs. “Either way, it sounds _awesome_.”

“I’ll get the sled from the garage,” Percy says.

“See?  This is fun already!” Keyleth cheers.

 

 

The streetlamps are on as they make their way outside, tightly bundled.  Puddles of glowing amber light drip onto the road, refracted and pooling in the still-falling snow.

“Okay, buddy,” Vex says as she kneels next to Trinket. “You don’t _have_ to pull the sled if you don’t want to.”

“But if you _don’t,_ ” Vax puts in, leaning over Vex’s shoulder, “Uncle Vax will have to do it out of a sense of nobility, so…”

“ _Mowwwrroww_ ,” Trinket says, sounding almost thoughtful.

Grog sets Pike on the sled. “Be careful.”

“No promises,” she replies with a fiendish grin.

Scanlan holds the two jump ropes tied to Trinket’s collar. “Are you ready, lovely Pike?”

“I guess so,” Pike says.  She reaches up and pulls on the strap of the bike helmet she wears, tightening it under her chin. “Do you want a helmet?”

“Oh, my lady fair, I don’t need a helmet,” Scanlan says. “I’m made of brawnier stuff.”

“Speaking as the person who will be healing you when that turns out not to be true…” Pike rolls her eyes.

“Trinket - go!” Vex calls.

The bear takes off, trotting up the road nearly daintily.  At Allura and Kima’s house on the corner, he slows, obviously wondering if Kima will come out and wrestle with him as she does sometimes.  When that doesn’t happen, he turns around, heading back towards Vex.

“Is this everything you dreamed of?” Scanlan asks Pike.

From behind him, she replies, “It’s actually a lot slower than I thought it would be.”

“Trinket, I’ve got cookies for you!” they hear Vax yell.

Those words are an immediate enticement to the bear, who breaks into a full-on sprint back towards the house.  The toboggan bounces up and down, sometimes leaving the ground for a few precious seconds before slamming back down onto the packed snow.

“Better?” Scanlan yells over his shoulder.

“It’s good!” Pike hollers back, her mittened hands gripping his parka tighter.

At the edge of their yard, Trinket decides waiting for the driveway is for losers, and he bolts up over the curb, jerking the sled with him; Pike and Scanlan go up the curb, taking to the air and whipping about.  They jolt back into the ground as Trinket whips to a halt in front of Vax.  The sled rams into a rock at the edge of one of Keyleth’s flower beds and flips upwards, launching both gnomes into the air.

Grog, who’s been standing near Vex and making comments on her filming of the events, manages to grab Pike out of the air by the back of her blue jacket.  Scanlan, having less luck in those kinds of matters, goes headfirst into the snow next to Grog.

“You okay, buddy?” Grog asks Pike.

Eyes sparkling, she grins up at him. “That was _amazing!  Grrr!”_

“Monstah!” Grog praises her, and swings her around in the air.

Percy scoops Scanlan out of the snow. “Are you all right?”

“I think I’m seeing stars, Percival,” Scanlan says a bit dreamily.

“That’s probably because you hit your head.”

“Romance feels like different things to different people, my friend,” Scanlan answers.

“Whatever you say, Shorthalt.”

 

 

The next suggestion they pull from the hat is, to no one’s surprise, “caroling,” and heads swivel towards Keyleth.

“There’s no way I rigged it!” she protests. “Now, come on.  We’re all already outside anyway.”

At Allura and Kima’s they sing “Winter Wonderland” and are rewarded with handfuls of candy canes and a mostly-sincere round of applause; the sincerity seems to come from Allura, as Kima is still too busy laughing about the sled mishap, which she watched from the kitchen window.

Two doors down, at Kynan and his mother’s house, they sing “Jingle Bells” - at Scanlan’s suggestion - and Kynan joins in enthusiastically, grabbing a tambourine from somewhere in the house and smacking it in a horrifically out-of-rhythm way.  Kynan’s mother gives Scanlan a kiss on the cheek and an apologetic smile to the rest of the group.

Up at the top of the road they stop at Gilmore’s and perform “Sleigh Ride” underneath the enchanted jingle bells hung outside his shop.  He and his assistant Shari stand in the doorway, smiling, arms crossed as the snow streams down around the singers.  Gilmore applauds vigorously. “Glorious, my friends!  Simply glorious!”

Shari has to agree, although she does so in a more understated manner. “This was really quite nice.  We haven’t had very many customers tonight.  It was a bit lonely.”

Gilmore gives Vax a hug.  Vax grins broadly. “Just spreading the holiday spirit.”

“I’ll give you two gold if you go down to my mother’s rest home and sing for her,” Shari says. “She’s been so lonely since my father died.”

Before anyone can say anything, Pike pipes up. “We’ll do it for free, Shari!”

And no one argues with Pike, so they wave goodbye to the shopkeepers and walk down to the Crescent District nursing home, where they sing for twenty minutes or so for a group of gentle elderly people.  Many of the old women have tears in their eyes when Pike and Percy finish a Celestial tune; at least two of the old men choke up when Grog takes a solo in “Home for Winter’s Crest.”

“Thank you,” the home’s director says as they prepare to go, pockets full of gold-wrapped chocolate coins and small needlepoint ornaments. “Most of their families don’t visit anymore, or couldn’t get here because of the weather.  You don’t know how much this means.”

Hearts are decidedly lighter as they make their way back home.  Keyleth sticks her tongue out to catch snowflakes; Pike and Vex skip in the roadway, arm in arm.  Vax lobs snowballs at Grog’s hat, unsuccessfully attempting to take it off.  Scanlan breaks out a small flute from his coat pocket and plays a lilting ditty to accompany their walking.

 

 

The house doesn’t seem so lonely when they return.  In the entryway everyone strips off their outerwear, hanging it on hooks and strategically placing mittens over radiator grates. “What’s next?” Vax asks Keyleth.

Keyleth holds the beret out to Grog.  He pulls out a piece of paper. “Grog makes his super-special hot cider and everyone eats pie.”

“Grog, that one’s blank,” Pike says.

“Well, that’s how I know it’s mine - and that’s what I wanted anyway.”

It’s an irrefutable argument, and so, pink-cheeked and in high spirits, they invade the kitchen.  Grog sets the largest soup pot on the stove and begins filling it with his ingredients of choice.  Pike hops up on her step-stool and cuts large pieces of an apple-raspberry pie, still warm from the oven.  Vex scoops out vanilla ice cream.  Within half an hour, they’re all seated at the table, enjoying food and drink.

“We never actually had dinner,” Percy points out.

“It’s Winter’s Crest Eve,” Vex says. “Lighten up a bit, darling.”

Percy draws from the hat while they’re still eating, coming out with Vax’s suggestion: “board games.”

“No way,” Vex says. “Last time we played board games we didn’t talk to each other for two weeks.”

“It was a _long_ two weeks,” Pike agrees.

“It was something I had planned for us to do with Velora,” Vax says.

At that Vex nearly melts. “Fine,” she says. “But we’re not playing Monopoly.”

Instead they play Trivial Pursuit, and everyone is pleasantly surprised - well, some are a little suspicious - when Grog wipes the floor with the rest of them.

“Was Pike whispering answers to you?” Vex wants to know.

“No,” Grog says loftily. “I’m just smarter than the rest of you.”

He offers the hat to Scanlan. “Your draw, short stuff.”

“It’s Short _halt_ ,” Scanlan says, grinning as he draws himself up to his full height. “And… this one says ‘secret gift exchange.”

“Sounds good to me, Scan-Man,” Vax says.

Pike starts to clean up the dishes, but Percy scoops her up from the floor. “Leave ‘em,” he says, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll get them later.”

She smiles and returns the kiss.

 

 

In the living room they flop onto the floor around the tree.  Keyleth looks up at it and spools a few more lines of softly-glowing lights out of her fingers. “That’s better,” she says with quiet satisfaction.

Vex passes out a gift to each person; the rest of the group waits until she’s seated with her own present in her lap before they count down together: “One… two… three!”

On “three” they all tear into their gifts, and there’s a few brief seconds of tearing paper before laughter ripples through the room.  Everyone in the room is holding up a pair of pajamas.

“Forget whatever’s on the next card,” Grog says. “I’m puttin’ on my new jammies.”

It seems to be the general consensus, and there’s a flurry of activity as they scatter about the house.  After awhile, though, everyone reconvenes in the living room.  Keyleth and Pike bring blankets; Scanlan and Percy follow behind with pillows.

“I don’t know what’s on the rest of the cards,” Percy says, “but all I really want is to make a blanket fort.”

He looks around the room at the six people he loves in so many wonderful and terrifying ways, and a deep sense of satisfaction floods through him. “Maybe our families couldn’t get to us,” he says, looking from person to person, seeing Keyleth’s eyes bright with excitement, the twins leaning up against each other on the couch, Scanlan popping cookies into his mouth, and Pike  on Grog’s shoulder, reaching up to put her grandfather’s statue of Sarenrae on the Winter’s Crest tree, all of them wearing the same set of striped pajamas in a variety of shades and colors. “But we’re enough for tonight.  We’re together, and we love each other, and we’re warm, and we’re happy.  And there’s no gift under any tree that’s quite as nice as that.”

“Hear, hear,” Scanlan says, his mouth full of cookie.

“Let’s snuggle!” Pike cheers.

And they do, amidst a pile of blankets and pillows on the living room floor, curled up against each other.  They drift off one by one, until Percy’s fairly certain he’s the only one awake.  He looks up at the tree overhead.

“It was an awfully nice thing you said,” Vex whispers into his ear. “About us being enough.”

Percy smiles and turns towards her. “We _are_ enough.”

Vex kisses him. “And you’re brilliant, darling, for realizing that.  I was all set to be gloomy, and then Keyleth’s goofy idea made everything a little brighter.  And you, you glorious man - you somehow brought it all together.”

She shifts Pike a little bit, brushing her hand fondly over the tiny gnome’s white hair.  Pike grunts softly and turns to snuggle into Percy. “Happy Winter’s Crest, Percy.”

“Happy Winter’s Crest, Vex’ahlia.”


End file.
